Blueberry Muffin Murder

'Of course. She stood there and read it right in front of me. Then she slipped it in her purse and went straight back out to her limo.'

'She didn't even bother to call him?' Andrea began to frown when Sally shook her head. 'But she saw him when she got back from the tour, didn't she?'

'I don't know. My bartender called in sick and I had to work the bar for the rest of the day. Connie Mac came in at four to meet Alan, and she was hopping mad before she walked through the door.'

'How could you tell she was mad before you saw her?' Hannah was confused.

'I heard her coming down the hall, and those boots she was wearing couldn't have hit the floor any harder.'

'Boots?' Andrea gave Sally sharp look. 'Are you sure they were boots?'

'I'm positive. I noticed because they were so unusual. I've never seen boots in peach-colored suede before. I bet she had them dyed to match the flowers on her sweater.'

'Connie Mac was wearing a sweater?' Andrea sounded surprised.

'That's right. It was part of a three-piece outfit. Her slacks and top were chocolate brown, the same color as the background in the sweater.'

'Was she carrying a purse?'

'Yes, a peach-colored suede shoulder bag with a strap made of gold links. She threw it on the top of the bar so hard, I thought the strap was going to wipe out a bowl of salted nuts.'

Hannah frowned at her sister. Leave it to Andrea to sidetrack a murder investigation by getting into a discussion of fashion with Sally. 'That's enough, Andrea. We don't need a blow-by-blow description Connie Mac's wardrobe.'

'Yes, we do,' Andrea countered, giving Hannah a triumphant look. 'If you'd paid attention, you'd know that Connie Mac was wearing a peach designer suit with black leather shoes when we went on the tour. And her purse was a black leather clutch with a diamond clasp. She must have gone up to her suite to change clothes, and that means she probably saw her husband. Don't think that's important?'

'It's important, and I'm glad you noticed.' Hannah felt a little guilty for jumping on her sister. Andrea always noticed what other women were wearing. Usually it bored Hannah to death, but this time it had come in handy. 'I think it would help if we tried to reconstruct Connie Mac's afternoon. What time did you finish the tour, Andrea?'

'Three-thirty. I looked at my watch when Spencer dropped me off at my car. I wanted to see if I had time to stop at the cleaners before I picked Tracey up at preschool.'

Hannah wrote the time in her notebook. 'So Connie Max got here at three-thirty and she had time to change clothes before Sally saw her at four?'

'She barely had time,' Andrea corrected her. 'I don't think Connie Mac was the type to go out in public unless she looked perfect. And don't forget that she had to switch purses. I figure she had about two minutes to spend with her husband, just long enough to give him his orders for the rest of the day.'

Hannah chuckled at her sister's turn of phrase. Andrea's opinion of Connie Mac had obviously hit rock bottom. 'So you think it wasn't an ideal marriage?'

'Not on your life! Any woman who doesn't spend more than two minutes with her husband especially after they've been separated for five days, is a really lousy wife.'

'I'll take your word for that,' Hannah said, turning back to her notebook. 'Was Connie Mac angry about anything when you left her, Andrea?'

'Not that I could see. She was all smiles and she even invited me to the grand opening of her boutique. Something must have happened after she went up to her suite.'

'At least we know she didn't have a fight with her husband. There's no way he could make her that angry in two minutes.' Hannah looked up from her notes as Sally and Andrea started to laugh. 'What did I say?'

Sally tried for a straight face, but it didn't work. 'You don't understand, Hannah. Dick can say something to make me mad in less time than that.'

'And Bill can do it in thirty seconds flat,' Andrea added. 'You don't know much about marriage.'

'And I'm not sure I want to. Then you two think she might have had a fight with Paul?'

'It's certainly possible,' Andrea answered, 'but it's also possible that something happened on her way down to the bar.'

'That's true. How long did she stay in the bar, Sally?'

'Five minutes tops. She went out the same way she came in, as mad as a wet hen. She was really on the warpath, and she heard Connie Mac yelling at Kurt Howe in his room. She was so loud, Francine could hear her right through the closed door.'

'What time was that? And who's Kurt Howe?'

'A quarter after four. Kurt Howe works for Savory Press, the people that publish her cookbooks. He's a nice young guy and he's got a tough job. He told me that they sent him here to handle Connie Mac, and it wasn't easy.'

'That's got to be the understatement of the year,' Hannah said, venturing a grin, 'especially when Connie Mac's the one who's used to doing the handling. Does Francine know why she was yelling at him?'

'Not really. She just caught the tail end of it. But she did hear Connie Mac say that she was going to call the publisher in the morning and have Kurt fired.'

Hannah almost choked on a sip of coffee, and Andrea reached over to thump her on the back. 'Are you all right, Hannah?'

'I'm fine, but we've discovered five suspects already and we just started. Sally's right. It looks like everyone had a reason to want Connie Mac dead.'

'Five suspects?' Sally looked confused. 'I thought you had only four.'

'The van driver's number one. He must have been steaming about being fired. And Alan Carpenter is number two. Connie Mac threatened to fire him and have him disbarred.'

'We have to include Paul,' Andrea said, taking over the count, 'at least until we find out if he has an alibi. If they had a fight, he was probably just as mad as she was. And Kurt Howe is suspect number four. He could have killed her so she couldn't call the publisher to get him fired.'

Sally nodded. 'Okay, but that's still only four. Who's the fifth, Hannah?'

'Remember that conversation you overheard between Connie Mac and Alan? The man who was getting half of something could have killed Connie Mac to keep her from changing their agreement.'

'I didn't even think of that,' Sally said, obviously impressed. 'But how are you going to find out who he is?'

Hannah turned to her sister. 'You can ask Alan. He'll probably try to fob you off with lawyer-client privilege, but it's worth a try.'

'I'll get it out of him,' Andrea promised.

Sally glanced at her watch and sighed. 'This is getting interesting, but it's past time for me to go out there and play hostess. Come on and I'll treat you to the buffet.'

'Just one more thing before you go.' Hannah stopped Sally before she could leave. 'Do you have any idea where Janie Burkholtz is?'

'She's probably at the table with the rest of the Connie Mac people. They always sit together.'

'She's not there,' Andrea said. 'Mike called her this morning, and when Janie didn't answer the phone in her room, he sent one of the maids up to check. There was no sign of Janie, her bed hadn't been slept in, and all of her things were gone. We need to find her before Bill and Mike do.'

Sally nodded. 'Why don't you ask Paul? Janie had dinner with him Thursday night, and she would have told him if she needed time off.'

'We'll do that,' Hannah promised, and then she started to frown as another, very unwelcome thought occurred to her. 'Did you get the impression that Janie and Paul were close?'

'I guess you could say that. They seemed to have a great time together. As a matter of fact, one of my waitresses said . . . '

Sally stopped speaking abruptly and Hannah leaned forward. 'What?'

'It was probably nothing. You know how Dot Truman is. She just got engaged and she sees romance under every bush.'

Under any other circumstances, Hannah would have laughed at Sally's description, but this was far too serious. 'I still need to know what Dot said.'

'All right. It's just that Paul and Janie sat there for quite a while, laughing and talking and whatever. And that was the night before Connie Mac got here.'

'And Dot said . . . . ?' Andrea prompted.

'She told me it was pretty obvious to her that Paul had something going on the side.'

Hannah glanced at her sister in time to see her wince. It wasn't the sort of news that either of them wanted to hear. 'Is Dot Truman scheduled to work today?'

'I'm not sure. I'll have to check.' Sally got to her feet. 'Come on, you two. I have to mingle with the guests and you have to eat. We can talk more later.'

Sally and Andrea got up, but Hannah didn't. She was still considering what Dot Truman had said. Janie had a sensible head on her shoulders, and Hannah didn't think she'd be foolish enough to have an affair with her boss's husband. On the other hand, common sense could fly out the window when love walked in the door.

'Come on, Hannah,' Andrea nudged her.

'Okay.' Hannah slipped her notebook into her purse, and then another thought occurred to her. What if Janie and Paul were perfectly innocent and it only looked as if they were lovers? If Dot Truman had assumed that they were having an affair, Connie Mac could have come to the same conclusion. That would certainly explain why she'd been on the warpath yesterday afternoon.

'Hannah?' Andrea nudged her again. 'Let's go get something to eat.'

'Right.' Hannah slid off her stool, intending to leave, when another piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

'Hannah?' Andrea sounded impatient.

'Hold your horses; I'm coming.' Hannah grabbed her purse and followed Andrea into the dining room. On any other morning, the sight of Sally's buffet table would have made her as hungry as a bear, but she barely glanced at the tempting array. Her mind was still back at the crime scene, thinking about Janie and Connie Mac.

Once Bill and Mike had interviewed Dot Truman, they'd suspect Janie of being the 'other woman.' Jealousy was a powerful motive for murder, and even if Paul swore that he wasn't involved with Janie, it wouldn't hold much water. Mike and Bill would expect him to deny it.

'Get in line, Hannah.'

Andrea gave her a none-too-gentle shove, and Hannah got in line at the sideboard, where Sally's staff had set out the plates and the silverware. She moved forward automatically, still thinking about the case that Mike and Bill could build against Janie. Money also was a powerful motive for murder, and Connie Mac had made millions over the years. They might even think that Janie had killed Connie Mac so that Paul could inherit her empire.

Hannah sighed as she reached the front of the line and picked up a plate. One thing was clear. They had to find Janie and get her side of the story before Bill and Mike had time to build an even stronger case against her.

-10- The two sisters split up when they arrived at the buffet table, and went down opposite sides. Sally always set out a mirror-image buffet to shorten the lines. Then, by unspoken agreement, they headed off toward the horseshoe-shaped mahogany bar. Sally and Dick didn't open the bar until lunchtime, and it was the only unpopulated spot in the room.

Once they'd hoisted themselves up on the comfortable padded-leather barstools, both Hannah and Andrea spent several minutes eating without exchanging a word. Sally put on the best breakfast buffet in three counties, and both sisters believed that it would be a crime to let her Eggs Benedict or Quiche Lorraine get cold.

'It's not true. Janie would have told me,' Andrea insisted, finishing the last bite of her quiche.

'Are you sure? You haven't been in touch for a while.'

'We're still just as close as we were in high school.' Andrea speared one of Sally's famous breakfast sausages with her fork. 'Besides, Janie doesn't have an aggressive bone in her body. There's no way she could have killed Connie Mac.'

'Unless she did it in self-defense.'

'What do you mean?' Andrea stopped in the act of lifting her fork to her mouth.

'I've got a possible scenario. Listen, and I'll run it past you.'

'Okay. Go ahead.'

'Let's assume that Connie Mac thought Janie was having an affair with. . .'

'Hold it right there!' Andrea set down her fork with a clatter. 'Janie would never have an affair with another woman's husband!'

'I said thought. It doesn't really matter whether Janie was or wasn't, as long as Connie Mac thought she was. Once they were alone at The Cookie Jar last night, Connie Mac confronted Janie about it and it turned ugly. . . .'

'It wouldn't have happened that way,' Andrea interrupted again. 'Janie would have done everything she could to convince Connie Mac that she was wrong.'

'You know how stubborn Connie Mac could be. What if Janie couldn't convince her?'

Andrea thought about that for a minute. 'Then Janie would have left.'

'What if Connie Mac blocked the back door? Do you think Janie would have pushed her out of the way?'

Hannah let Andrea think about it while she stared at the glasses that were hanging on a rack over the bar. They were absolutely spotless, and she wondered idly whether Sally's staff had to wash them every day.

'Janie wouldn't have pushed her,' Andrea said at last. 'I'm pretty sure of that. If she couldn't leave, she would have gone into another room until Connie Mac cooled down.'

'Which other room?'

'The coffee shop, or . . .' Andrea hesitated, and then she sighed. 'I see where you're going. You think Janie ducked into the pantry to get away and Connie Mac followed her.'

Hannah nodded. 'Knowing Janie, do you think it could have happened that way?'

'Maybe. It does make sense. But we won't know for sure until we find Janie and ask her.'

'Exactly. Any ideas about where she is?'

'Not really. Janie told me her parents were on a cruise. I don't think she'd drive all the way down to Florida if they weren't home.'

'Could she be hiding out with someone in town?'

'When she called me, she said she hadn't kept in touch with anyone in Lake Eden. Besides, I'm her best friend. She would have come to me.'

'Are you sure?' Hannah didn't say anything else. She just kept silent and let Andrea work it out by herself.

Andrea sighed deeply and shook her head. 'She might have wanted to call me, but she knows what Bill does for a living. Maybe she contacted one of the other girls we ran around with in high school.'

'Do you have their numbers with you?'

'Of course. You never know when a hot property is going to hit the market, and I like to give my friends first crack.' Andrea reached inside her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She punched in a number and then she looked up at Hannah. 'I know it's crazy, but I'm still hungry. Will you get me a couple of Sally's biscuits?'

'Sure. I'll be right back.'

'Bring some ham slices, too. And don't forget the butter and apricot jam.'

'Coming right up.'

Even though the situation with Janie was grim, Hannah was grinning as she left the bar and headed back to the buffet table. Andrea claimed she wasn't pregnant, but perhaps she just didn't know it yet. If her sister's breakfast this morning was any indication, Hannah would have a brand-new niece or nephew by Thanksgiving.

'Hannah?' Sally caught her on her way to the buffet table. 'Dot Truman's not on the schedule for today. And I've been thinking about who might know where Janie's gone. I think you should talk to Alex Matthews.'

'Is he one of the Connie Mac people?'

'No, and he's a she. Her first name is Alexandra, but she prefers Alex and she's my temporary assistant. I hired her the day after Dick left for Arizona, and she's fabulous. You must have seen her in the kitchen. She organized my staff when they wheeled out the buffet.'

Hannah nodded, remembering the efficient dark-haired woman who'd directed Sally's kitchen help. 'Janie and Alex are close?'

'Closer than most. It was one of those instant rapport things. They just clicked, you know?' Sally glanced at her watch. 'Alex is upstairs right now, checking on the maids, but she'll be back in the kitchen in about ten minutes.'

'We'll talk to her. Thanks, Sally.'

After Sally had left on her rounds again, Hannah filled Andrea's plate and headed back to the bar. She got there just as Andrea was slipping her cell phone back into her purse.

'Any luck?'

'No. I called everyone we hung around with in high school, and no one's seen Janie. They didn't even know she was in town. I think she must have left Lake Eden.'

Hannah hoisted herself up on the bar stool and set the plate she'd filled in front of her sister. 'Sally just gave me a possible lead.' Andrea sliced open a biscuit, spread it with butter and apricot jam, and slipped in a slice of ham. She took a bite and smiled. 'Just let me finish eating and we'll go follow up on it.'

Hannah bit her tongue to keep from voicing the comment that popped into her head. If they waited for Andrea to finish eating, Janie would have time to get halfway around the world in a rowboat.

They found Alex in the kitchen, taking her coffee break. After they had introduced themselves and told her that Sally had sent them, Hannah asked her about Janie.

'Yes, I know Janie.' Alex looked a bit worried. 'Is anything wrong?'

Hannah smiled to reassure her. She'd found that she learned much more when she didn't alarm the people she questioned. 'Janie's a good friend of ours. Andrea went to high school with her.'

'Of course.' Alex turned to Andrea with a smile. 'I didn't connect the name at first. You're her best friend and you married the handsome quarterback. Janie flew back here for your wedding and she caught your bridal bouquet.'

Andrea smiled back. 'That's right. Bill helped me practice for a solid week and I pegged it straight at her.'

'How did you meet Janie?' Hannah pressed on before Andrea could ask what else Janie had said about her wedding.

'One of the maids called in sick the day she checked in, and I took some fresh towels up to her room. She's a lovely girl.'

'Then you didn't know her before she checked in at the inn?'

Alex shook her head. 'We just got to talking and we discovered that we had a lot in common.'

'Like what?' Hannah asked.

'Just a lot of little things. Janie's crazy about old musicals and so am I. Our favorite dessert is coffee ice cream with chocolate sauce, we do crossword puzzles to relax, and we both like to read biographies. Janie says we're birds of a feather.'

'Do you happen to know where Janie went when she left the inn last night?' Hannah asked.

'I didn't see her at all last night. Why? Is there something wrong?'

Hannah started to shake her head, but then she reconsidered. If Alex was a friend, she deserved to know the situation. 'We're not sure. Janie packed up all her things last night and left.'

'She did?' Alex was clearly surprised. 'Do you know why?'

'We think she might have had a fight with Connie Mac,' Andrea answered the question.

'That's possible. I was at the desk when Mrs. Macintyre left, and she stomped out of here in a huff. Janie came down a minute or two later and I asked her why she wasn't riding in the limo. She said that Mrs. MacIntyre had told her to take her own car and that she was in a nasty mood. '

'Do you think Janie quit?' Andrea asked.

'Oh, no. Janie needed her job and she's not a quitter. Mrs. MacIntyre probably fired her again.'

Andrea's mouth opened, and Hannah sent her a warning glance. It snapped shut again and Hannah turned back to Alex. 'You said again. Was Janie fired before?'

'Oh, yes. But she said it was never more than a few hours before Mrs. MacIntyre would call to rehire her.'

'Why would she go back to a job like that?' Hannah was amazed.

'That's exactly what I asked her.' Alex gave a little laugh. 'And Janie said that Mrs. MacIntyre was the only fly in the ointment. She loved her job and she really liked all the people on the staff.'

'How about Mr. MacIntyre?' Hannah glanced at her sister, but Andrea's mouth was glued shut.

'She absolutely adored him. She said he was a saint for putting up with his wife all these years, and that he deserved a lot better.'

Hannah almost groaned aloud. She didn't think that Janie and Paul had been more than friends, but Bill and Mike would put a very different spin on Alex's answer.

'Janie never goes along to the book signings,' Alex went on, 'and we were going to get together this afternoon. I hope Mrs. MacIntyre called to rehire her this morning.'

'She didn't,' Hannah said, not relishing the task of telling someone else that Connie Mac was dead.

'But why? She needs Janie. No one else can put up with her. She went through twelve assistants the year before Janie carne on board.'

'I'm sure she would have called Janie,' Andrea said, taking over, 'but that was impossible. Connie Mac died last night.'

Alex's eyes widened. 'She's dead? Why didn't anyone tell me? I thought her face was awfully red when she left yesterday afternoon, but I figured she was just angry. Was it her heart?'

Hannah clamped her lips shut to keep from saying, Of course not. Connie Mac didn't have a heart. Andrea had barged in and now she could deal with telling Alex how Connie Mac had died.

'Well. . . actually. . .' Andrea shot her sister a pleading glance, but Hannah pretended not to notice. "It was a little more serious than that. Connie Mac was. . . uh . . . killed.'

'You mean murdered?' Alex gasped and her face turned pale.

Hannah looked over at Andrea. She still had that pleading look on her face. Andrea, the smooth talker who could handle any situation, needed to be bailed out.

'The police think it's murder, but it could be an accident,' Hannah explained. 'That's why we need to find Janie. She was with Connie Mac last night and we want to ask her what happened.'

'Do the police think that Janie killed Connie Mac and ran away?' Alex looked sick at the thought.

Hannah took over. 'They think it's possible. That's why we want to find her before they do. We want to help her.'

Alex sat there quietly for a moment, and Hannah noticed that her hands were trembling. 'I'd help you if I could, but I really don't know where Janie's gone.'

'If she calls you, will you tell us?' Hannah asked.

'Yes, I will.'

Andrea pulled out one of her cards and handed it to Alex. 'Here's my cell phone number. Call me anytime, day or night.'

'I will.' Alex took the card and slipped it into her apron pocket. Then she blinked, and Hannah could see that she was fighting tears. 'Just find her, please. And tell me the minute you do. Poor Janie must be so frightened, out there all alone.'

There was nothing else to say, and Hannah motioned to Andrea. They had other people to see. It wasn't until they had left the kitchen that she asked the question that had been hovering in her mind ever since they'd concluded their interview. 'Don't you think that Alex's reaction was a little strange?'

'What reaction?'

'When we told her that Janie was missing, her hands started to tremble. And when she asked us to hurry and find her, she was blinking back tears.'

'That's not so strange,' Andrea objected. 'She was concerned.'

'I realize that, but don't you think it was a little out of proportion?'

'Not really. I feel exactly the same way. Every time I think about how lonely and scared Janie must be, I get tears in my eyes.'

'So do I, but we've known Janie all our lives. Alex only met her five days ago.'

'Oh.' Andrea was silent for a long moment. 'You're right. What does it mean?'

'I'm not sure, but I think we'd better find out. Let's go to the lobby and plan our strategy.'

-11- Hannah led Andrea into the lobby and they took two overstuffed chairs next to the massive granite fireplace. It was as far from the desk as they could get, and they had the huge room all to themselves.

"Sally told me the granite slabs for the fireplace came from Cold Spring," Andrea informed her. "F. E. Laughlin used local granite and he had it carved with his own designs. Isn't it beautiful?"

"It's certainly impressive," Hannah said, deciding not to risk further comment. With murder foremost on her mind, the three-dimensional angels that appeared to be emerging from the gray-veined surface reminded her of headstones in a graveyard.

Andrea inched a little closer to the blaze that was burning in the grate and then unzipped her leather-bound organizer. "What do you want me to do first?"

"Go talk to Francine." Hannah found the page of notes she'd taken when they talked to Sally. "Find out what she knows about the fight that Connie Mac had with Kurt Howe. Then ask her opinion of the reporter who wrote the story about the ghost."

Andrea jotted it down with her gold Cross pen. "Do you really think he might have murdered Connie Mac to add excitement to his ghost story?"

"Not really, but it's something we have to rule out. And don't forget to ask if Francine knows Janie."

"You want me to ask everyone about Janie, don't you?"

"Absolutely."

"I'm writing down a series of questions," Andrea said, her pen flying swiftly across the page. "I want to know the last time they saw her, any friends she talked about, and whether she ever mentioned a particular place she liked to go, like a hotel or a resort."

"That's a very good idea." Hannah was impressed, Andrea seemed to have the questions about Janie covered.

"Then I'll ask them to put themselves in Janie's place and tell me where they think she might. . ." Andrea stopped speaking and stood up. "My phone's ringing."

"I didn't hear anything."

"I switched it to vibrate so it wouldn't disturb us. Maybe it's Alex. We asked her to phone if Janie called."

Hannah thought that was a little too much to hope for, but she was on full alert as Andrea retrieved her cell phone and answered the call.

"Hello?" There was a pause and then Andrea smiled. "Hi, honey."

It had to be Bill, and Hannah settled back in her chair. Tracey was the only other person Andrea would call "honey."

"Of course Hannah's with me. We're out here at the inn. Sally said she could bake out here. Do you want to talk to her?"

Hannah reached out for the phone, but Andrea shook her head. She listened for another few moments and then she started to smile. "That's just great, honey. I'll see you in about half an hour."

"That was Bill," Andrea said, pressing a button and dropping the phone back into her coat pocket.

"I gathered that."

"They're on their way out here and they're bringing all your cookie dough."

Hannah gave a huge sigh of relief: Once she had her cookie dough, today's baking would be a snap. "Let's get our things together and go talk to Earl Flensburg about the man Connie Mac fired. I saw him drive in, and he should be finishing his first cup of coffee about now."

"Too bad Ray didn't wait a day to tell her what happened." Earl picked up the remainder of his glazed doughnut and stared at it thoughtfully. He was a bear of a man, and his quilted orange parka with the Winnetka County Towing Service insignia on the right front breast pocket made him look even larger than he was.

Hannah guessed what was on his mind. "Because then she wouldn't have had the chance to fire him?"

"Yeah. I should call him to tell him what happened, but I never got his number. Didn't get his last name either, come to think about it. We just need the owner's name for the form."

"Sally told us the accident wasn't his fault," Hannah prompted.

"That's right. A semi spun out in front of him and he took the ditch to avoid it. The van was fine, if you don't count the sissy color. Not a scratch on it."

"So the only thing damaged was Connie Mac's cake?" Andrea asked.

"That's about the size of it. Ray was fine, too, but he was shook up bad I told him to sit in the rig while I hooked up. His face was as white as that snowbank he hit."

"Were you there when he called Connie Mac?" Hannah asked, even though Sally had already told her. It was always better to get things firsthand.

"You betcha. I let him make the call from my rig. He had the phone up to his ear real tight, but I could still hear her yelling at him."

"Connie Mac wasn't exactly known for her sweet disposition." Hannah ventured a small grin. "Didn't Ray tell her that he couldn't avoid the accident?"

" 'Course he did, but it didn't count for a hill of beans with her. Guess I should say I'm sorry she's dead, but I'm not. She was real nasty to Ray."

"From what we hear, she was nasty to a lot of people," Andrea commented.

"Doesn't surprise me. But chickens come home to roost, you know?"

"That's what they say," Hannah agreed. "Do you think those chickens had any help from Ray?"

"No way!" Earl shook his head emphatically. "All Ray wanted to do was crawl home with his tail between his legs. I seen enough people in my life to know he wasn't the killer type. Besides, he was nowhere near here last night."

"Are you sure?" Hannah asked, not willing to rule out Connie Mac's driver solely on Earl's assessment of his character.

"Sure, I'm sure. After she fired him, I dropped him out at the Quick Stop so's he could catch the bus home."

"Do you know where he lives?" Andrea asked the next question.

"Can't say as I do. He lives with his folks, though. He told me that. Hope they weren't too mad at him for losing his job. From my way of thinking, it was the best thing that ever happened to him. A clean-looking kid like Ray's gonna get another job real fast."

"Clean-looking?" Hannah prompted.

"Dark hair cut short, a real nice smile, and a polite way of talking. He called me 'sir,' and hardly nobody does that. Said he wanted to go to college, but he had to work for a year first."

"He does sound nice," Hannah commented. "What time did you drop him off at the Quick Stop?"

"I got my next call at four-thirty, and that was right after I dropped him off." Earl's eyes narrowed and he stared at Hannah suspiciously. "You gonna go check to make sure Ray got on that bus, even after I told you he couldn't have killed her?"

Hannah hesitated. She didn't want to hurt Earl's feelings, but she wasn't going to lie, either.

Andrea stepped in. "I think we should go out there and check. If Hannah and I can prove that Ray got on that bus, the police won't have to bring him back here to question him.'

Earl thought it over for a minute. "That's a good idea. If the police drag Ray all the way back here, it would just about kill a sensitive kid like him. You girls go check. And tell Sean and Don I sent you."

Hannah stood in Sally's kitchen and watched as Bill and Mike carried in her cookie dough. There were thirty-five bowls, each covered with plastic wrap. The Winter Carnival guests wouldn't have to go hungry for cookies this afternoon.

Mike placed the bowl he was carrying on Sally's stainless-steel counter and turned to Bill. "Is that all?"

"I think so. I'll go back out and check."

"I really appreciate this, Bill," Hannah said, addressing her brother-in-law and pointedly ignoring Mike.

Mike's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't say anything until Bill had gone back out to the cruiser. Then he turned to Hannah with a frown. "Come on, Hannah. I know how hard it is for you to be locked out of your shop, but I was just doing my job."

"Some job!" Hannah muttered, but she had to admit he had a point. Perhaps it was time to lighten up a little and see what information she could weasel out of him.

"I don't like it when you're mad at me. How long am I going to be in the doghouse, anyway?"

The note in Mike's voice made Hannah fight back a grin. He sounded like a petulant little boy who'd just been told he couldn't have dessert until he finished his vegetables.

"Was that a smile?"

"It was the ghost of a smile," Hannah admitted. "And speaking of ghosts. . ."

"I heard all about it from Sheriff Grant. He said he got a call from someone who thought we should put Ezekiel's ghost on our suspect list."

"Sheriff Grant didn't take that seriously, did he?"

"No, not at first. Then I pointed out that the killer could have started the ghost story as a diversion to throw us off the track."

Hannah was impressed. She hadn't thought of that angle. "Then you're going to investigate the ghost?"

"It sounds a little crazy when you put it like that, but yes. If we find the person who started the ghost story, it could lead us to the killer."

Hannah bit back the urge to tell Mike who'd written the ghost story and why, but he'd told her not to interfere with his investigation, so he could figure it out by himself. "Any news about Janie?"

"No. You're not trying to find her, are you?"

"No," Hannah said, and it was the truth. They hadn't even started their search for Janie yet. "Did Doc Knight tell you when Connie Mac was killed?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Mike looked suspicious, and Hannah knew she had to give him a reason that had nothing to do with her investigation. "I have a vested interest. She was killed in my pantry, and something like that doesn't happen every day."

"I guess it can't hurt to tell you. Doc said the murder weapon was a heavy, rounded object, and she was killed between ten and midnight."

"From ten to midnight," Hannah repeated, and then she began to frown. "I just thought of something. Connie Mac must have been in the habit of staying out all night."

Mike looked surprised at her comment. "What makes you think that?"

"Because her husband didn't report her missing when she didn't come back to their room last night."

"You're barking up the wrong tree, Hannah. Mr. MacIntyre got in late, and they have a suite with connecting bedrooms. When he didn't hear any sounds coming from her room, he assumed that she'd already gone to sleep. He didn't know that she wasn't there until we called him this morning."

Hannah didn't say what was running through her mind After the nasty mood Connie Mac had been in that afternoon, she couldn't blame Paul for not wanting to wake her. "Where was Paul MacIntyre last night?"

"Out at the Tri-County Mall, doing a walk-through of the kitchen boutique with the mall manager. After that, they went over all the paperwork to make sure everything was in order. Alan Carpenter was with him, and they both said they didn't get back here until after midnight."

"Then they're both in the clear, right?"

"They will be if their story checks out." Mike reached out and took Hannah's arm. "Did you know that Norman was at the Ezekiel Jordan House last night?"

"He told me. He also told me that he didn't notice anything wrong at The Cookie Jar when he left at nine."

"And you believed him?"

"Of course I did." Hannah pulled back slightly. She didn't like the turn their conversation was taking. "What are you getting at, Mike?"

"Something came up when we did interviews in the area this morning. We found out that Norman had a compelling reason to be angry with Mrs. MacIntyre."

Hannah took a giant step back and stared at Mike in shock. "You think Norman killed Connie Mac?"

"It's possible. I spoke to your mother and she said Mrs. MacIntyre was a royal pain when Norman photographed her. She didn't like any of the old-fashioned costumes, and it took all of your mother's tact to persuade her to wear one of them."

"My mother's tact? My mother doesn't have any tact! She's even worse than I am."

"Maybe, but she said Mrs. MacIntyre made Norman move all his equipment at least six times, and she was very condescending to him. Your mother thought Norman showed remarkable restraint, but she could tell that he was steaming. The way I see it, Norman's the type that suffers in silence. And then, long after the situation is over, he dwells on how ineffectual he was. It preys on his mind, you know. He thinks, I should have done this, I should have done that, but I just stood there and took it like a wimp. He gets more and more frustrated at his own inability to act until. . . wham! The whole thing explodes in an act of violence."

Hannah's mouth dropped open. Mike was spouting pop psychology like a talk-show host. She wanted to tell him to stuff it, but that would do Norman more harm than good. "But it doesn't track, Mike. You said that Connie Mac was killed between ten and midnight, and Norman left the Ezekiel Jordan house at nine."

"That's what he says, but no one saw him leave. He could have left at ten. Or eleven."

"Norman was home at eleven. I called him after I got home last night."

"Why did you call him?"

"Just to talk," Hannah said, not wanting to get into the real reason she'd called Norman. "He sounded perfectly normal to me."

"That doesn't prove anything. If he killed her at ten, he had a whole hour to calm down. Look, Hannah . . . I know it's not something you want to believe about Norman, but you've got to admit it's possible it happened the way I just said."

Hannah closed her eyes. If she stared at Mike's earnest face looming over hers, she'd probably hit him right in the beak. And that would bear out his theory! She took a deep breath, collected her wits, and looked up at him again.

"Well, isn't it possible?" Mike prodded her for an answer.

Obviously, the man didn't know when to quit. Hannah sighed and gathered herself to speak in her calmest, most rational voice. "No, Mike. It isn't possible. Norman told me about all the trouble he had with Connie Mac right after we left The Cookie Jar last night. He was over being miffed with her. As a matter of fact, he was even joking about it."

"Of course he was. Norman wouldn't let you know how angry he was, not if he was planning to kill Mrs. MacIntyre later."

"He wasn't planning on killing her," Hannah argued, even though she knew it wouldn't do any good. She took a deep breath, calmed her jangled nerves, and addressed exactly what he had said about Norman's motivation. "Listen to me, Mike. The situation with Connie Mac didn't prey on Norman's mind, he didn't explode in an act of violence, and he didn't kill Connie Mac."

Mike didn't look at all convinced. "Why not?"

"Because Norman's not a killer. Besides, if every person Connie Mac ordered around had taken offense and clubbed her, she would have looked like a piece of Swiss steak!"

"How do you know that? Have you been running around out here asking questions?"

Hannah sighed. She'd already promised herself that she wouldn't lie to him. Mislead perhaps, but not lie.

"Have you?" Mike prodded her for an answer.

"You have my word, Mike." Hannah looked him straight in the eye. "I haven't seen or spoken to any of the Connie Mac people."

"Then how did you know that Mrs. Macintyre ordered people around?"

"It's simple. You're forgetting that Andrea and I took her on a tour of Lake Eden. It was impossible not to notice something like that."

"Oh," Mike said, appearing to accept that at face value. "For a minute there, I thought you were playing detective again."

"There's no way I'll ever play detective again," Hannah declared, pushing down the little niggle of guilt that she felt. She wasn't going to play at being a detective. She was going to be a detective and solve Connie Mac's murder before he did.

Mike reached out to give her a hug. "I've got to get back to work. Just promise me that you'll be careful around Norman."

"Norman didn't kill Connie Mac."

"I know you don't believe that he could do it, but I understand Norman a lot better than you do."

"Really?" Hannah worked hard to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. As far as she knew, Mike hadn't spent more than a few casual moments with Norman.

"That's right. Men understand each other better than a woman ever could. I can appreciate your loyalty to Norman, and I'm not asking you to believe that he's the killer. I just want you to stay away from him until we find out, one way or the other."

Hannah stared after him as he walked out the door. In just one morning, Mike had managed to close down her business, tie her down with a promise not to interfere with his investigation, accuse a man she was dating of murder, and claim that a woman couldn't possibly understand a man's motives. This whole thing with Mike was enough to make her pick up the phone and make an appointment with the nearest shrink. For the life of her, she couldn't understand how such an obstinate, boneheaded chauvinist could make her pulse race and turn her insides to jelly.

-12- Hannah had just finished stashing the last bowl of cookie dough in Sally's walk-in cooler when Andrea came into the kitchen. There was a smile on her face and she looked excited.

"Hi, Hannah. Sally said I'd find you in here. I got tons of information from Bill and I wrote it all down." Andrea patted her leather organizer. "And I've got something else, too."

Hannah watched as Andrea opened her large leather purse and pulled out a bulky packet. "My recipe file?"

"That's right. Bill snitched it when Mike's back was turned. He told me this kind of surface couldn't be dusted for fingerprints anyway, but you know what kind of a stickler Mike is when it comes to procedure. He wasn't even going to let you take your purse this morning until Bill got after him."

"Thank Bill for me. This saves me a whole lot of time." Hannah gave a big sigh of relief as she took the packet. She'd been planning to drive back to her condo to pick up copies of her recipes, and Bill had saved her the trip.

"Before I forget, I'm supposed to tell you that Lisa's on her way. Bill spotted them at one of the venues and he told her that you were all setup to bake out here." Andrea took the stool next to Hannah's and stared at her sister for a moment. "Okay. What's wrong? Did you have a fight with Mike?"

"Not exactly."

"But Mike did something, right?"

"You could say that."

"Just give me the highlights," Andrea coaxed. "I need to know what Mike said, so 1 can compare it to what Bill told me. That's the only way we'll know if they're holding out on us.'

Hannah hesitated. She didn't really want to talk about her conversation with Mike, but she had learned some things about the official investigation. "Okay. Mike said they haven't found Janie, Doc Knight put Connie Mac's time of death between ten and midnight, the murder weapon was a heavy, rounded object, and Paul's alibi is Alan Carpenter. Both of them claimed they were together at the boutique last night and they didn't get back here until after midnight. Unless it's a conspiracy, they're both in the clear."

"Bill told me all that. What else?"

"What makes you think there's anything else?"

"I can read it on your face."

Hannah caved in. Andrea had always been able to tell when she was upset. "Mike told me that Norman's a suspect."

"Our Norman?" Andrea's mouth dropped open when Hannah nodded. "But. . . why?"

"Bill didn't tell you?" Hannah answered her sister's question with one of her own.

"Bill didn't say a word about Norman. Why does Mike think he's a suspect?"

"Mother."

"Our mother?"

"One and the same. She told Mike that Connie Mac was nasty to Norman and now Mike thinks that Norman went back to The Cookie Jar last night to get even with her."

"That's crazy! Bill was with Mike when they talked to Mother, and he didn't say anything about Norman being a suspect."

"Maybe he didn't want to tell you."

Andrea shook her head. "Bill would have told me. He tells me everything. And that means Bill doesn't think that Norman did it, but Mike must have some reason to . . ." Andrea stopped in mid-sentence, and a huge grin spread over her face. "Of course. I get it."

"What do you get? And why are you grinning like that?"

"Because it's so obvious. Mike's the only one who thinks Norman is a suspect. And that's because he wants Norman to be guilty. Don't you get it, Hannah?"

Hannah thought about it for a moment and then she shrugged. "Not really. It can't be personal. Mike's always said he liked Norman."

"Naturally. He can't admit that he's jealous. That would make him look bad. So what does Mike do? He accuses his rival of murder. I bet he even told you to stay away from Norman. He did, didn't he?"

Hannah nodded. "Yes, but. . ."

"I knew it. I'm right! And you didn't even see it!"

"See what?" Hannah was puzzled.

"Mike's in love with you, Hannah. That's the reason he suspects Norman."

"That sounds like something Doctor Love would say." Hannah referred to the psychologist who answered callers' questions on KCOW talk radio. "Have you been listening to her show?"

"Of course not. I don't have any reason to listen. I have a very happy marriage."

"I'm glad to hear it," Hannah said, and she was, especially since she suspected that her sister's family was about to increase by one.

"It's like this, Hannah. Men in love behave irrationally. Since Mike is behaving irrationally, he must be in love in you. That's simple logic."

"That's bad logic," Hannah corrected her. "You're affirming the consequent."

"I'm doing what?"

Hannah thought about explaining, but this wasn't the time to give her sister a lecture in Logic 101. "Never mind. But if Mike is in love with me, why didn't he just send me a valentine?"

"Because Valentine's Day is over and maybe he wasn't in love with you then. He might have just realized it this morning. I know I'm right, Hannah. Mike is definitely in love with you."

Hannah made a face. "If that's love, I don't need it. Telling me that Norman was a suspect was an awful thing for Mike to do. He lied to me."

"Mike didn't lie. Norman is a suspect, at least in Mike's mind. I'm sure he believes he has some kind of case against Norman."

"But Norman didn't kill Connie Mac."

"I know that, and you know that, but Mike doesn't."

Hannah frowned as the full implication of her sister's words sunk in. "But Mike's a good cop. I can't believe that he would make up a case against Norman."

"Of course he wouldn't, but he's going into this investigation with a bias. Innocent people have been convicted be- fore, you know. And police work is so objective."

"Subjective."

"Okay, subjective. I always get those two mixed up. I tell you, Hannah, Mike doesn't even know he's biased against Norman. It's totally unconscious."

"Subconscious."

Andrea rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "Stop correcting me. I'm trying to make a point here. I'm sure Mike will come to his senses eventually, but Norman could find himself in a lot of hot water in the meantime."

Hannah thought about that for a moment and then she sighed. "I hate to admit it, but you could be right. We'd better find out if Norman has an alibi."

"Hi, you two." Lisa breezed into the kitchen. "I dropped Dad off at the seniors' center and Tracey's in the dining room with Bill and Mike. They're having breakfast and she's snitching their bacon."

"That's fine." Andrea nodded absently.

Lisa walked over to join them, but she stopped short as she noticed their serious expressions. "What's wrong?"

"Mike thinks Norman's a suspect," Hannah told her.

"Norman Rhodes?"

"That's right," Andrea confirmed it. "Did you happen to see him last night between ten and midnight?"

"Not me," Lisa replied, sitting down next to them, "but I'll ask Herb. He bowled last night and then he came over for night lunch."

"What's night lunch?" Andrea asked her.

"That's what Herb's mother calls the little snack you have before bedtime so you won't get hungry in the middle of the night. She told me to try it with Dad and it's working just great. He never wakes up and wanders around in the dark anymore."

Hannah tried to keep her mouth shut, but she just had to ask. "How is Marge getting along with your dad?"

"They're just great together," Lisa said with a smile. "Marge is always offering to come and sit with him when Herb and I want to go out. They used to date in high school, you know. Now that Mom's dead and Herb's father is gone, I keep thinking that Marge and Dad might have gotten together again, if only. . . you know."

Hannah understood what Lisa wasn't saying, and she reached out to give her arm a sympathetic pat. Marge Beeseman had never been credited with being a martyr, and it was unlikely that she'd choose to marry a man who'd been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. "A lot of times life isn't fair."

"I'd better let you two get to work," Andrea said, rising to her feet. "I'm going up to talk to Francine and I'll take Tracey along. She adores babies, and she hasn't seen little Danny yet. I'll check in with you right afterwards, Hannah."

Lisa waited until Andrea had left, and then she turned to Hannah. "I didn't want to say anything in front of your sister, but Tracey might have gotten us into trouble."

"What happened?"

"We ran into Edna Ferguson when I dropped Dad off at the seniors' center, and she was in a panic about what to serve for dessert at the banquet."

Hannah groaned, guessing the rest. It wasn't the first time her precocious niece had volunteered her services. "Did Tracey promise Edna that we'd bake the Winter Carnival cake?"

"I'm afraid she did. She told Edna that her Aunt Hannah could do anything."

Hannah laughed. "I guess I should be flattered, but there's no way we can replace Connie Mac's cake. We could bake it, no problem, but cake decoration isn't my long suit."

"Mine, either. I can decorate cookies, but doing a cake is a huge project. Do you want me to call Edna and tell her that we can't do it?"

Hannah shook her head. "We'll just give her buckets of Little Snowballs for dessert."

"Snowballs?" Lisa looked shocked. "You're joking, aren't you?"

"I'm perfectly serious. The snowballs I'm talking about are cookies that my Grandma Ingrid used to bake. We'll present them in the crystal ice buckets Sally uses to chill champagne, and they'll fit right in with the Winter Carnival theme."

"They sound just perfect." Lisa glanced over at the swinging door as it opened. "Here comes Alex. Sally introduced us when I came in through the dining room."

Alex spotted them sitting at the counter and hurried over. "Sally said to tell you that you could use anything in the pantry, and she sent me in to help you bake."

"That's great," Hannah told her. "We can use all the help we can get. Just let me check my recipe file and I'll give you a list of what we need."

While Lisa and Alex retrieved the bowls of cookie dough from the cooler, Hannah found her grandmother's recipe and made a list of the ingredients. When she was through, she handed it to Alex. "Could you gather these up for us? We'll bake the cookies for the Winter Carnival first, and then we'll start in on the Little Snowballs."

"Go do what you have to do, Hannah," Lisa said after Alex had left them. "I'll handle the baking with Alex."

"Are you sure?" Hannah felt a little guilty. Every time she got involved in an investigation, Lisa ended up doing all the baking.

"I'm positive. The faster you solve Connie Mac's murder, the faster we can get back into our own kitchen." Lisa gestured toward the bowls of dough they'd set on the counter. "I should have these ready for you by noon."

"Great. I'll drop them off at the venues. You shouldn't have to do everything."

"Okay, but only if you want to."

"I do. I have to go out there anyway. Norman's a judge at the dogsled competition, and I need to warn him that he's a suspect."

"I hope he's got an alibi, and I won't forget to check with Herb. Is there anything else I can do?"

Hannah started to shake her head, but then she thought of something. "See if you can get Alex talking about her background. I need to know everything I can about her."

"I can do that," Lisa said, and then she began to frown. "Do you think Alex killed Connie Mac?"

"No, but everyone's a suspect until we can eliminate them. And there's something about Alex that puzzles me. She was really upset when she found out that Janie was missing, and they only met a couple of days ago. I thought she overreacted, and I'm wondering why."

"Okay. I'll find out everything I can for you," Lisa promised. "Working with you, I've learned how to get people to spill their guts."

Hannah went out the door with a smile on her face. Perhaps some people wouldn't regard what Lisa had said as a compliment, but she did.

* * *

"Look, Aunt Hannah. Isn't Danny wonderful?" Tracey looked up and smiled. "He's got all his toes. Francine took his booties off so I could count."

Hannah laughed. She'd been keeping Tracey occupied while Andrea spoke to Sally's stepmother, an attractive silver-haired lady whose smile seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face. "Does Danny have all of his fingers?"

"Oh, yes. He has eight and that's just right."

"Not ten?" Hannah couldn't resist teasing her niece a bit.

"Of course not, Aunt Hannah. You know that people have only eight fingers. The other two are thumbs."

"That's right. I was just testing you. Thumbs aren't fingers."

Tracey nodded. "But they're really important. They're opposable and we couldn't pick up things if we didn't have them. Watch and see how Danny does it." Tracey picked up a rattle and dangled it front of Danny. The baby reached up to grab it, and Tracey leaned down to kiss the top of his head. "Good boy, Danny. You did that just fine."

"Did Miss Cox teach you that in school?" Hannah asked, wondering how Janice Cox, Tracey's teacher at Kiddie Komer, was managing to cope with such a bright four-year-old.

"No, Mr. Herman told me about it when we looked at his animal collection. Monkeys and gorillas have opposable thumbs, and there was another animal, too. I think it had something to do with oranges."

"Orangutans?"

"That's it."

Hannah reached out to ruffle Tracey's blond hair. "You liked Mr. Herman?"

"Oh, yes. He knows lots of things, but he told me that sometimes his memory turns into a butterfly."

"A butterfly?"

Tracey nodded solemnly. "He has to sneak up on it if he wants to catch it and there's a trick he uses. If he can't re- member something right away, he makes himself think of something else. Then it flutters straight into his mind."

"Ready, Tracey?" Andrea came over to take her daughter's hand. "Thank Francine for letting you play with Danny."

After Tracey had thanked Francine, Andrea herded her toward the door. Hannah lagged behind to take one last peek at Danny. He'd fallen asleep with his fist in his mouth, and as she stood there, she found herself wishing that her life had taken a different turn. If she'd married, she'd probably have children by now.

"He's a very good baby," Francine said softly, reaching out to straighten his blanket. "Sally and Dick are so lucky."

"Yes, they are. I'd better go. I'll see you later, Francine."

Hannah walked out and shut the door softly behind her. Danny was sweet and he'd definitely awakened her maternal instincts.

"What took you so long?" Andrea called out from the end of the hallway.

"I was just looking at Danny." Hannah hurried to catch up with her sister and her niece. They had a murder to solve, and she could think about her lack of progeny later.

-13- It was only five miles to the Quick Stop, and Hannah negotiated the icy roads with a practiced ease. Once she'd reached a straight stretch of highway, she glanced at her sister. "Did you find out anything interesting?"

"A couple of things." Andrea swiveled in her seat to look back at her daughter. "We can talk about it. Tracey's got one of her books and she never listens to anyone when she's reading."

"That'll come in handy when she's sharing a dorm room in college," Hannah said, remembering the times she'd lost herself in her studies when her roommates were discussing the men they were dating.

"Francine feels awful about mentioning Ezekiel's ghost. She had no idea that reporter would take her seriously. His name is Larry Kruger, by the way. And I was right about Connie Mac's ancestors. Her great-great-uncle was F. E. Laughlin's secretary."

"But was he playing in that poker game?" Hannah stepped on the gas to pass a lumbering bus.

"Francine says he could have been. F. E. always took his secretary along when he came to Lake Eden. He liked to work in the daytime and relax at night. And we know his secretary was there, because Francine found a letter he'd written on that date."

"All right. You convinced me," Hannah conceded, turning off the highway to take the access road. The Quick Stop was impossible to miss, even in a near-blizzard. The old wooden building was painted bright red with yellow trim around the windows, and it loomed like a beacon against the banks of snow.

Andrea waited until Hannah had parked at the side of the building. "It's time to put your book away, Tracey. We're here."

"But I'm just getting to the best part." Tracey looked up from her book reluctantly. "Can't I stay here and read?"

"It's too cold, honey. You'd turn into an icicle in two seconds flat."

"But Aunt Hannah can leave the heater on. I won't touch anything, I promise."

Andrea shook her head. "That's not a good idea. Come on, Tracey. If you come inside with us, I'll buy you a snack."

Hannah had all she could do not to laugh. Andrea, the mother who'd vowed to do everything perfectly, was bribing her daughter with fast food.

"Okay, Mommy." Tracey shut her book and stashed it in her backpack. Then she looked up at her mother and grinned. "Can I have a hot dog?"

"May I have a hot dog," Hannah corrected her. "You don't have to ask, Aunt Hannah. You're all grown up and you can eat anything you want to."

Andrea cracked up and so did Hannah. When they'd recovered, Andrea turned to her sister with a teasing smile. "See what you get for correcting people all the time? Now you'll have to eat one of Sean and Don's hot dogs."

"That's not exactly a punishment," Hannah informed her, "especially if it's smothered with mustard and pickles."

"That's exactly the way I like mine," Tracey commented, zipping up her parka and waiting for her mother to get out and open her door.

After Tracey had climbed out of her truck, Hannah retrieved a bag of the twins' favorite cookies. She never sold day-old cookies in her shop, but the twins wouldn't mind. Her cookies were a whole lot fresher than the cookies they sold in little plastic packages.

The snow crunched underfoot as they walked the few feet to the front door. The building itself was almost fifty years old, and the twins had spent one whole summer renovating it. They'd added living quarters in the rear, put on a new roof, and painted it inside and out. Their color choices more than made up for the black-and-white Minnesota winter landscape outside the windows. The front counter was bright blue, the shelves were bright yellow, and the inner walls were a brilliant green.

The first aroma that hit Hannah's nose when they pushed open the door was of freshly brewed coffee. Quick Stop coffee was a source of controversy in Lake Eden. Some people said it was so thick, your spoon would stand straight up in the cup. Others argued that you'd lose your spoon if you stirred it for more than a second, because the acid would melt it away. Hannah wasn't sure which opinion was accurate, since she'd never had occasion to put it to the test. She drank her coffee black.

"Hi, Hannah. Tell me that bag is what I think it is." Sean, or perhaps it was Don, looked up from the newspaper he was reading at the counter. The newspaper was covering the name embroidered on his purple Quick Stop shirt, and Hannah had never been able to tell the twins apart.

"It is." Hannah set the bag on the counter. "I brought you a dozen Twin Chocolate Delights."

"Those are our favorites, and not just because of the name. I've been meaning to talk to you about your cookies. Do you think we could work out a deal to stock them out here?"

"Why not?" Hannah smiled at him. New business was always welcome.

"What'll it be? It's my treat."

"Just coffee, please. It smells wonderful."

"And for you?" He turned to Andrea.

"I'll have the same," Andrea answered, "With extra sugar and cream."

"And how about you, little lady?"

"I'd like a hot dog, please," Tracey spoke up, "but only if Mommy says it's okay."

"I guess we'd better ask her, then." Sean, or Don, slid off his stool and rose to his feet. Hannah caught a glimpse of the name on his shirt. This twin was Don. "Is it okay, Mommy?"

Andrea nodded. "She likes it with pickles and mustard, but go a little light on the mustard. And give her a package of chips, too. The plain kind, not flavored."

"Where's Sean today?" Hannah asked, following him to the glass-enclosed spit where the hotdogs seemed to turn eternally.

"I'm Sean."

"But. . ." Hannah began to frown. "Your shirt says you're Don."

"That's because it's Don's shirt. Mine haven't come back from the laundry yet." Sean glanced up at the clock that hung over the counter, then pressed a buzzer near the cash register. "Don's favorite program just ended. He'll be out here in a second."

When Don arrived, Andrea chatted with him while Sean prepared Tracey's hot dog. Once it had been decorated with mustard and chopped pickles, Sean wrapped it in a sheet of Quick Stop waxed paper and placed it in a cardboard carry-out box with a package of chips.

"Here you go." Sean handed the takeout box to Tracey and gestured toward an area near the front windows. "We have tables over there."

The tables had been painted an array of bright colors, and Andrea pointed to the bright orange one, the one farthest from the counter. "Why don't you eat your lunch at the orange table, honey? Your aunt Hannah and I need to talk to Sean and Don."

"Okay, Mommy," Tracey said with a resigned sigh. "I just knew you were going to talk about grownup stuff again."

When Tracey had left, Don turned to Andrea. "Grownup stuff?"

"She's talking about Connie Mac's murder. You heard about it, didn't you?"

Don frowned as he nodded. "The KCOW news team interrupted Video Auction, and I was all set to call in a bid on a coatrack with antlers instead of hooks. I thought we could use it by the front door."

"What about the murder?" Sean asked, getting back to Andrea's original question. "Do they know who did it yet?"

Hannah shook her head. "That's one of the reasons we wanted to talk to you. They're investigating anyone who might have had a reason to kin Connie Mac, and we found out that she fired her van driver that afternoon. Earl Flensburg said he dropped him off here yesterday afternoon to catch the bus home. His first name is Ray, he's in his early twenties, and he has short, dark hair."

"I remember him," Sean said. "Winnie Henderson was here buying new wiper blades and he offered to put them on for her. He sure seemed like a nice guy to me."

"That's what Earl said. We're just trying to find out if he has an alibi for the time of the murder. Did you see him get on the bus?"

"Yes. I was out front pumping gas and I saw him board."

"Where was he going?" Andrea asked.

Sean shrugged. "North. That's all I know. We're just a stop on the highway. The driver pulls up and honks his horn and the passengers go out to buy their tickets directly from him."

"He'll be back here around noon if you want to talk to him," Don added. "He's got a short run on Saturdays."

Andrea reached in her purse, pulled out two business cards, and handed one to each twin. "Could you have him call me on my cell phone when he gets in? It's really important."

"Okay," Sean promised, and then he turned to his brother. "You stand in front of the bus so he can't pull out, and I'll drag him in to the phone."

"No, you stand in front of the bus," Don objected.

Hannah grinned. The twins had a long history of arguing with each other. "Just work it out before noon. I don't care who does what as long as that driver calls Andrea before he puts his bus back in gear."

"Can I go see Grandma again?" Tracey asked, trudging through the snow to Hannah's cookie truck. "Please, Mommy?"

"Are you sure Grandma wants you to come back?"

"I'm positive. Grandma said she'd find a dress for me to wear, and I can help her show off her house. And Grandma Carrie said Uncle Norman would take my picture, too."

Hannah's eyebrows shot up. "Grandma Carrie?"

"That's what she told me to call her. And my real grandma said it was okay, because someone was bound to come to their senses eventually."

"Oh, brother!" Hannah muttered.

Tracey climbed into the back of the van and waited for her mother to get in. Once Andrea was settled in her seat, Tracey tapped her on the shoulder. "Why does Aunt Hannah look so funny? Does she have a headache?"

"I think she does."

"Then you should give her an aspirin, but we have to know exactly what kind of headache it is. It's very important."

"Why is that?" Hannah asked her.

"Because they have aspirin for different types of head. aches. I learned all about it on TV. What type of headache is yours, Aunt Hannah?"

"It's the mother of all headaches," Hannah quipped, "and if they ever invent a special aspirin for that, I'll buy a whole case."

Hannah and Andrea waited in the back room of the Ezekiel Jordan House while Delores helped Tracey change into a costume of one of the two dressing rooms. Hannah opened the door to take a peek at the unoccupied cubicle and was surprised to see that her mother had decorated it to look like a man's dressing room. The wallpaper was gray with a silver stripe, and hunting prints hung on the walls. There was an oval mirror on a stand, a wooden rack with ball-and-claw feet that had been fashioned to hold items of clothing, and a high-backed chair sitting next to a table that sported a set of silver-backed brushes and combs.

'Oh, Hannah! Just look at this darling dress!'

Hannah shut the door and turned to look at her sister, who was examining the contents of a chifforobe that had been placed against the far wall. A variety of women's dresses hung inside, and Andrea removed a burgundy silk and held it up for her to see.

'I think I'll wear this for my picture. What do you think?''

'It's a nice color,' Hannah said, frowning a bit at the tight waistline. From where she was standing, it looked ridiculously small. 'Are you sure it's not too small for you?'

'I can get into it. It comes with a corset that pushes you up and nips you in at the waist. One of the maid's jobs was to lace you in.'

'What if you didn't have a maid?'

'Then you looped the strings around a bedpost and used it to pull them tight. You've seen pictures from that period. That's why all the fashionable women had hour-glass figures.'

'And misshapen ribs,' Hannah added. 'They also fainted a lot, probably because they couldn't breathe.'

'It'll only be for a couple of minutes, just until Norman snaps the picture, and I want to look authentic. I think I should ask Bill to wear one of those tall silk hats.'

Hannah glanced up at the rack that held the hats and began to chuckle. The only hat her brother-in-law liked was a baseball cap. 'Do you think he'll do it?'

'Of course he will. Bill will do anything to make me happy. How about you? What are you going to wear?'

'I'm not having my picture taken.'

"Yes, you are. Mother signed you up for a group picture with us. She wants to hang it on her wall."

Hannah groaned. The camera was her worst enemy. The darned thing always caught her with a crooked smile or one eye half-closed. To refuse to be in the portrait would mean an argument with Andrea and her mother, and she just didn't have the energy for that. "I'll do it, but I'll be the unfashionable aunt At least I won't have to wear a corset that way."

"But it's going to hang on Mother's wall. You really should look your best Just let me find something in here for you and . . ."

"Look at me, Mommy!" Tracey called out, emerging from the dressing room in a sky blue dress with a ruffled white pinafore. "Grandma says I look precious, and she even gave me this old teddy bear to carry around."

"Antique teddy bear," Delores corrected her. "It's a Steiff, and you have to be very careful with it. It belonged to Ezekiel Jordan's youngest daughter."

"I will, Grandma. I promise."

"Let's go, dear." Delores herded her toward the door that connected with the main part of the house. "You'll say your speech right after you enter the girls' room upstairs."

"I know, Grandma. 'This is my room. I sleep here with my sisters, Emily, Catherine, and Lucinda. My father and mother gave me this teddy bear for my fourth birthday. His name is Brownie and I love him very much.' "

"Wonderful!" Delores clapped her hands and then turned to them. "Tell Tracey how wonderful she was, girls."

"You were wonderful, honey," Andrea said with a smile.

"Yes, you were," Hannah seconded. "Do you have any more to say?"

"Just one more thing. When the guests are ready to leave, stand by the front door and say, 'Thank you for coming to see the Ezekiel Jordan House that my Grandma Delores and my Grandma Carrie made.' "

The words Grandma Carrie set off warning bells in Hannah's mind. Every Lake Eden resident who took the tour would hear Tracey, and the phone lines would overload with rumors that she was about to marry Norman.

"We'd better run along, dear," Delores said, taking Tracey's hand. "Our audience is waiting."

Hannah walked over to grab her mother's arm. "Go ahead, Tracey. I need to talk to your grandma for a minute." She waited until Tracey was well out of earshot, and then she turned to her mother with fire in her eyes. "How could you, Mother! You know what people are going to think if Tracey calls . . ."

"Delores? I'm early." The back door opened and Luanne Hanks rushed in. cutting Hannah off in the middle of her planned tirade. She stopped short as she saw Andrea and Hannah, and then her face lit up in a smile. "Hi, Andrea. Hello, Hannah. How are you two? I haven't seen you in a while."

"We're fine," Hannah said, putting on a smile for Luanne's benefit.

Luanne caught the tension in the air and she glanced uneasily between Hannah and Delores. "Uh . . . if you're busy right now, I can come back later."

"No, dear." Delores shook her head. "I have to check on the tour group. Stay and visit with Andrea and Hannah until I get back."

Hannah sighed as her mother made good her escape. They would definitely have words later. Then she noticed that Luanne was carrying her Pretty Girl cosmetic case. "Are the portraits starting early?"

"No, I just came in to chat with your mother."

"You're not working at the caf' today?" Andrea asked her.

"I'm on vacation. Rose figured there wouldn't be much business, and she told me to take a week off."

"I hope it's a paid vacation." Hannah knew that Luanne needed every cent she could earn to support her mother and her two-year-old daughter, Susie.

"It is. Rose is paying me my regular salary and Norman's paying me, too. I'm making double the money for half the hours."

"That's great, Luanne!" Hannah was relieved. "That's not the half of it. If the ladies who come in like Pretty Girl makeup, I might get some new customers."

'That reminds me," Andrea said. "I'm completely out of mascara and eyeliner. Do you have any with you?"

Hannah silently blessed her sister as Luanne opened her makeup kit and gathered up the items that Andrea had mentioned. She knew Andrea didn't use Pretty Girl makeup, but she bought it anyway to help Luanne. Hannah had done the same, and she had a guest bathroom medicine cabinet filled with unused makeup to prove it. Adding a few more things to the collection wouldn't break her budget, and Hannah walked over to the table where Luanne had set her makeup case. "I need another lipstick, Luanne."

"Where did the last one go?" Luanne asked, giving Hannah a suspicious look. "I've never seen you wear it."

Hannah knew that Luanne had a strong aversion to anything she regarded as charity, and she apologized to Moishe in absentia for what she was about to say. "My cat knocked it off my bathroom counter and it ended up in the toilet. I fished it out to save myself from a plumbing bill, but I didn't want to . . . well. . . you know."

"I'm really glad you didn't!" Luanne plucked a lipstick from her case. "I have your color right here, Hannah."

"Did you do Connie Mac's makeup yesterday?" Hannah asked, selecting two more items and handing Luanne the money for her purchases.

"No. I was all ready to come in, but Norman called and told me that she was having her personal beautician do it before she left the inn. I never even got to see her."

Hannah bit her tongue to keep from saying, You didn't miss much.

"Hannah?" Delores poked her head in the back room. "Could you come here for a minute?"

Hannah walked over, even though she felt like refusing. It wouldn't be polite to get into a knock-'em-down, drag-'em-out fight with her mother in front of Luanne. "What is it, Mother?"

"I thought you should know that I changed Tracey's last speech," Delores said in a hushed voice. "You were right. I overstepped."

Hannah's mouth fell open in shock. Her mother had never apologized to her before. She knew she should let sleeping dogs lie, but her curiosity got the better of her. "What made you decide to change it, Mother?"

"Carrie says Norman's going through a rebellious stage and she thought it might be pushing him too far. The last thing we want to do is upset the applecart."

TWIN CHOCOLATE DELIGHHTS

Preheat oven to 350'F, rack in the middle position

1 cup butter (2 sticks ' melted) 2 ' cups white sugar ' cup cocoa unsweetened, for baking) 2 teaspoons baking soda 1 teaspoon salt 2 teaspoons vanilla 4 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork) 3 cups flour (no need to sift) 1 cup chopped nuts (optional ' your choice of nut) 2 cups chocolate chips

Melt butter in a large microwave-safe bowl. Add the sugar and mix. Then add the cocoa, soda, salt, and vanilla and stir until smooth. Add the beaten eggs and stir thoroughly. Mix in the flour, the chopped nuts (if you want to use them), and then the chocolate chips.

Place rounded teaspoons of dough on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. (They'll flatten out as you bake them.)

Bake at 350'F for 10 minutes. Cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then remove them to a wire rack to complete cooling.

Mother loves these cookies. If I bake them when she's mad at me, she sweetens right up.

Twin Chocolate Delights cookies should freeze well, but I can't swear to that 'they never lat long enough to try it.

-14- 'Do you want to put your coat in a locker?" Andrea asked as they entered the Tri-County Mall.

"No, we won't be here that long." Hannah gazed around her at the throngs of people. "It's only ten-thirty. What are all these people doing out here so early?"

"The mall opens at nine and a lot of people make a day of it. What other place could you go to jog in the morning with the family, have lunch at a restaurant, watch a movie at the multiplex, mail your packages at the post office, buy a new book at the bookstore, and get your hair done while your kids play computer games? Malls are wonderful in the winter."

"I guess that's true," Hannah said.

"And in the summer they're just as nice. You can do all the same things in air-conditioned comfort, Without ever having to swat at a single mosquito. If they'd put in a school, for Tracey and let us sleep in a couple of the display bedrooms at the furniture store, I could live out here and be perfectly happy."

"Not me," Hannah said. "There's something about a controlled environment that makes me crazy. It's too much like being in jail."

Andrea turned to her in surprise. "Have you ever been there? In jail, I mean?"

"No, but that could change in a hurry if Mike finds out what we're doing."

Andrea agreed and dropped the subject, leading the way to the escalator. "Connie Mac's boutique is on the second level, where Greg Canfield's import store used to be."

The two sisters rode up to the second level in silence, and when they stepped off, Andrea sighed deeply. "If they haven't heard about Connie Mac's murder, you're going to tell them, not me. You stuck me with telling Alex and I don't want to do that again."

"Relax," Hannah reassured her. "Unless they're living in a plastic bubble out here, they've heard."

The kitchen boutique was in a prime location in the middle of the mall, only a few feet from the escalator. Giant banners in the window proclaimed, "Grand Opening Monday,' and Andrea and Hannah walked closer to peer in the windows.

"There's a woman inside stocking the shelves," Andrea announced, trying the door and turning back to Hannah with a frown, "but the door's locked."

"Knock."

"But they're closed until their grand opening on Monday. It says so right on the sign."

"Knock anyway." Andrea raised her hand and knocked softly on the glass door.

"She can't hear that. Knock louder." Andrea gave a solid knock on the door, and the woman looked up from her work. Andrea knocked again and the woman walked toward the door, pointing up at the sign.

"Now what?" Andrea asked. "She's not going to let us in."

"Yes, she will." Hannah moved up to the door with a friendly smile on her face and motioned for the woman in the smart business suit to come forward. She looked like some sort of corporate executive. Under other circumstances, Hannah would have avoided her like the plague, but she needed information from someone who'd worked for Connie Mac, and this was her best shot.

"I'm sorry, we're closed," the woman said, raising her voice so that they could hear her. "Come back on Monday for our grand opening."

"I have a question about the china in the window,' Hannah told her, moving right up to the glass.

"Just a moment," the woman answered, turning the lock on the door. She opened it and smiled what Hannah knew was her very best never-lose-a-customer smile.

"We need to buy a wedding present and we're looking for a complete dinner service for twelve. We'll need china, silver, glassware, linens. . . everything, really."

The woman's smile warmed considerably. "I really shouldn't do this since we're not officially open for business, but come in and take a look. I'm Rhea Robinson, and I manage the Connie Mac's Kitchen Boutique chain."

"This is really nice of you." Hannah matched Rhea's brilliant smile. "Our best friend's wedding is next Saturday and we have to find the perfect gift."

"I'm sure you'll find everything you need right here. We have a very extensive selection. I can't actually sell you anything today, but you could pre-choose and come back on Monday. We're giving a fifteen-percent discount to our customers on opening day."

"That's perfect," Hannah said, turning to Andrea. "What do you think of that china in the window?"

Andrea looked startled for a moment. Then she said, "I think she'd really love it."

"How about the glassware?"

"This is beautiful," Andrea said, heading over to a table with some cut-glass crystal goblets. "We should get two water pitchers, one for each end of the table."

"It's Baccarat and it's very expensive," Rhea warned them.

"Price is no object," Andrea told her. "We want to give her the best wedding present that money can buy. How about flatware? You'll have to advise me. I know next to nothing about silver."

Rhea's eyes began to sparkle, and Hannah knew that she was hooked. Now all Hannah had to do was figure out how to ask questions about Connie Mac.

"We have some exquisite gold-plated flatware. It was very popular in the forties and it's come back into fashion. It's the very top of our line, and to make it even more special, it's Connie Mac's original design."

This was just the opening she'd been hoping for, and Hannah did her best to look worried. "I just thought of something. We were listening to the radio on the way out here and we heard that Connie Mac was. . . er . . ."

"Deceased?" Rhea supplied the word. "That's right. It's such a tragedy. And when you mentioned that the gold-plated silverware was her design, that made me worry."

"Worry?"

"Yes. What if our friend wants to buy more pieces, or replace something her staff might break? With Connie Mac dead, these stores could go out of business. We might be better off going to an older, more established place. I'm sure there are others out here at the mall."

"No, there aren't," Rhea said, stepping closer. "Connie Mac refused to sign a lease in any mall that had competing stores. She wanted to keep her image exclusive, and her boutiques are all one of a kind."

"I can understand that," Andrea agreed. "She was one of a kind. But now that she's gone, will her boutiques survive?"

"Of course. We have excellent financing, and our boutiques are very popular. And while it's true that Connie Mac did some product design, we plan to keep on producing unique products with her name. Perhaps I shouldn't say this, but other than the occasional personal appearance, Connie Mac was never actively involved with the boutiques. It's a separate division of Connie Mac Enterprises, and her husband has been in charge since the day we opened our first store."

Hannah said with a smile. "You'll see us back here on Monday, then."

After Rhea had escorted them out and locked the door behind them, Andrea turned to Hannah. "What did we learn?"

"I'm not sure, but I'll write it all down as soon as we get back out to the truck."

"Why don't you do it right now while it's still fresh in your mind?" Andrea pointed to a bench under a potted tree. "And while you're writing, I'll dash in and look for some shoes to go with the dress I bought last week. It shouldn't take more than five minutes."

"Good try, but no dice," Hannah said, grabbing her sister's arm and piloting her to the escalator. Andrea's five minutes would turn into an hour, and she wanted to get out to the dogsled race to tell Norman that he was a suspect.

"There's Norman," Andrea said, pointing toward the finish line, where three judges were gathered in a tight group.

"And he's got his camera." Hannah grinned as she spotted it hanging around his neck. "I guess he's hoping for a photo finish."

The two sisters crunched across the snowy clearing and made their way toward the finish line. They had to stop several times to exchange greetings with the bystanders they knew, and it was slow going. By the time they had navigated the crowd that surrounded the final quarter mile of the course, they'd learned that there 'were only five teams entered because Charlie Jessup had been disqualified for sled runners that were too wide, Eleanor Cox had hand-sewn leather booties for her husband's dogs, Jerry Larson had dropped out only a mile into the race when he'd upended and lost his earmuffs, and Sam Pietre's sled was sporting a schnapps-bottle holder that he'd designed in his metal shop last night.

"Go ahead," Andrea said, spotting Eleanor Cox in the crowd. "I want to ask Eleanor if she really made those booties. You'd better get a move on, though. I can hear the dogs."

Hannah could hear the barking in the distance, and she figured the two-legged contestants with their four-legged transportation were about a mile and a half away. "Okay. I'll pick you up on my way back."

The air was crisp and cold, and Hannah shivered slightly as she ducked under the rope at the side of the course and stepped knee-deep in a snowdrift. She'd have to change jeans, but that wouldn't be a problem. She always kept a change of clothes in the back of her cookie truck.

A wooden platform six feet high had been built at the side of the finish line. Two of the three judges had climbed to the top with binoculars, but Norman was underneath with his camera.

"Norman?" Hannah called out as she approached. Norman turned and a smile spread over his face. Hannah couldn't see it under the ski mask that covered his face, but she could tell he was smiling by the way his eyes crinkled when he spotted her.

"Hi, Hannah. Did you come to see the race?"

"No, I came to see you."

"You did?" Norman's eyes crinkled even more, and Hannah hated to disillusion him. On the other hand, he had to be told. "I came to warn you that you're a suspect in the murder case."

"What?"

Now Norman's eyes were big and startled, and Hannah mentally kicked herself. She'd given him the news with all the subtlety of a bulldozer. "Sorry, Norman. I should have said that better. Bill doesn't suspect you. It's just Mike."

"Oh,' Norman said, and his eyes looked normal again. "I guess I shouldn't have lipped off to him this morning. Okay, Hannah. Thanks for coming all the way out here to tell me."

"Then you're not worried?"

"Not really. Once Mike cools off and thinks about it, he'll know I didn't do it."

"Maybe," Hannah said, trying not to sound too doubtful, "but I think you'd better come up with an alibi. Let's sit together at the banquet tonight and talk about it."

"I'd like that, but I'm not going to the banquet. I have to develop the portraits I'm taking this afternoon and I won't have time. Could we get together later?"

"Sure. I should be home by ten. Why don't you come by my place and I'll buy you a cookie?"

"Sounds good. I'll be there."

Norman's eyes crinkled again and Hannah was glad. At least he wasn't too worried to smile.

"Are you going to stick around for the finish? They should be here soon."

"Sure. I'll make a dash for the sidelines."

"Stay with me and you can have a dog's-eye view. I'm going to be here under the platform. Get on my other side, just in case one of the mushers runs off course."

Hannah took up the position Norman indicated. It was probably crazy, but she felt a lot warmer under the platform, with the illusion of a roof over her head. The barking had grown steadily louder as they'd talked, and Hannah found herself wondering why the dogs ran and barked at the same time. Maybe it was just for the sheer joy of the exercise on such a crisp winter day.

"Here they come, and Otis is in the lead!" a voice yelled out from above.

Hannah wasn't surprised. Otis and Eleanor were dog lovers from way back. When they retired, they'd built a house on Old Bailey Road, just outside the town limits. There, the two-dogs-per-household rule didn't apply, and they'd taken in a host of strays over the past three years. The ones they couldn't find homes for, they kept, and Otis had trained all their huskies and malamutes as sled dogs.

As Hannah watched, the lead musher and his team came over the crest of the hill. It was Otis, and he was still in front.

"Look at his dogs." Norman slipped his free arm around Hannah's shoulder. "They're all smiling."

Hannah didn't point out that huskies and malamutes always appeared to be smiling because of the shape of their faces. It was simply too lovely a sentiment to dash. Actually, the dogs did seem to be having a huge amount of fun. Their tails were high and tightly curled, their tongues were wagging from side to side, and they were barking and yelping in excitement.

"Okay. Here we go!"

Norman dropped to one knee and focused his camera. A few seconds later, Otis and his dogs rushed by at lightning speed. Hannah laughed out loud in sheer pleasure as Otis slowed his dogs at the far end of the course and guided them through the break in the ropes where they would wait for the other contestants.

One by one, the other teams raced by and Norman took pictures of all of them. When he was through, Hannah told him she'd see him later and headed back for the sidelines to collect Andrea.

"Eleanor did make the booties," Andrea told Hannah on their way back to the truck, "and they're going up to the Iditarod next year."

Hannah was surprised. "Does Otis think he can win?"

"Oh, they're just going as tourists. Janice is going to stay at their place for two weeks and take care of their dogs."

Hannah unlocked the doors and they climbed into the cookie truck. It was still slightly warm inside, and it felt good after the bitter cold outside.

"Could you drop me off at the office?" Andrea asked as Hannah pulled out onto the highway. "I have to write up a listing."

"Sure. You got a listing at the race?"

"Eleanor's cousin, Roger, got a job offer in Wisconsin and it was too good to turn down. They were going to rent out their house, but I convinced them that renting was a headache they didn't need, so they're going to sell."

"But didn't they just buy it last year?"

"Seven months ago. I handled the sale."

"If they sell this soon, they'll lose money, won't they?"

"No. Roger converted the basement into two separate bedrooms and put in a full bathroom down there. Now I can relist it as a five-bedroom, three-bath, and that increases the asking price. Best of all, I think I've already got a buyer. I ran into Lelia Meiers at the cleaners yesterday and she's pregnant with twins. She asked me to keep my eye out for a bigger house, and this would be just perfect for them. I called her right away and she wants to see it tomorrow."

"You're amazing," Hannah said, and she meant it. Andrea was always looking for ways to list and sell real estate. It was an ideal job for her, because she could socialize and work at the same time.

"Call me later," Andrea said as Hannah pulled up in front of Lake Eden Realty. "I should be through here in about an hour."

"Okay. I'm going back to the inn to collect the cookies. I I'll deliver them to the warm-up tents and then we'll figure out a place to meet."

As Hannah drove off, she glanced at her watch. It was eleven-thirty, and she'd be back at the inn before noon. If Lisa and Alex had finished the baking, she could have all the cookies delivered by one.

The truck seemed silent without Andrea, and Hannah switched on the radio. A moment later, she wished she hadn't, because the KCOW news team was covering the latest about Connie Mac's murder. Hannah winced as they mentioned that her body had been found at The Cookie Jar, and she hoped that the old adage was true. If any publicity was good publicity, it wouldn't hurt her cookie business.

As she turned off on the road that led around Eden Lake, Hannah noticed a plume of smoke coming from the one of the summer cabins that dotted its shores. She watched for a moment to make sure it wasn't a house fire, but the smoke was too confined for that. It was definitely coming from a chimney, and Hannah didn't think that any of the cabins on the far side of the lake had been converted into year-round dwellings. It must belong to one of the summer people who'd come back to Lake Eden for Winter Carnival and had decided to brave the discomfort of no central heat, frozen water pipes, and a lack of insulation to save on the price of a nice, snug motel.

-15- Hannah pushed open the door to Sally's kitchen and stopped short as she saw the massive array of baked cookies on the counter. Lisa and Alex had finished the baking, and she immediately felt guilty for shirking her share of the work. Some of the cookies were already boxed for transport, and others were still cooling on the racks. Hannah walked over to take a closer look and smiled at what she saw. The Molasses Crackles were perfect rounds, the Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookies looked crisp and delicious, the golden-brown Peanut Butter Melts were crosshatched with perfect fork marks, and the Oatmeal Raisin Crisps tempted her with their spicy aroma. She was just reaching for one, to give it a taste test when Lisa and Alex came into the kitchen.

"Hi, Hannah," Lisa greeted her, lifting the box she was carrying up to the counter. "Where's Andrea?"

"She got a listing at the dogsled race and I dropped her off at Lake Eden Realty to write it up."

Alex lifted her box to the counter and smiled at Hannah. "Thanks for letting me help. I really enjoyed baking those cookies."

"You got that backwards," Hannah told her. "I should be thanking you. Just let me mix up the Little Snowball dough and I'll show you how to make those."

Lisa shook her head. "It's too late. We baked them already. The instructions were right on the recipe and once we got going, we didn't want to stop." She stepped over to whisk back a towel that covered six of Sally's crystal ice buckets, and Hannah saw that each one was filled with small snow white balls. "They're absolutely delicious, Hannah. We just had to taste them."

"Of course you did," Hannah said, reaching out to take one. The Little Snowballs were so tender they practically melted in her mouth, and she started to smile. "Delicious."

"Are you sure?" Alex looked a bit worried. "I rolled them in powdered sugar twice, just like it said in the recipe. Once when they were hot, and once after they'd cooled. Do you think it's too much?"

"There's no such thing as too much powdered sugar. They're perfect, Alex, even better than I remembered. I'll help you two mix up the cookie dough for tomorrow morning and then I'll deliver the Little Snowballs to Edna."

"What cookies are we making tomorrow?" Lisa asked. "It's basically the same lineup, except we'll substitute your White Chocolate Supremes for the Molasses Crackles. You can mix up the dough for those."

"I'll do the Oatmeal Raisin Crisps," Alex offered. "I read the recipe and I bet my boss would just love them."

"You mean Sally?"

"No, my regular boss."

"Who's that?" Hannah asked, trolling for a little information.

"I work for Remco. It's a big accounting firm based in Edina. My boss is the senior vice president. I'm on vacation right now. I had three weeks coming and I had to use it up before I lost it."

"Wait a second." Hannah turned to her with an amazed expression. "You took a temporary job with Sally on your vacation?"

Alex laughed. "I know this isn't exactly a vacation, but I wanted to see how a place like this was run. I inherited my parents' house last year, and I thought I might turn it into a bed-and-breakfast."

"Well, the inn is certainly a good example of what you can do with an old place," Hannah said, still watching Alex closely. She looked perfectly sincere, but she didn't quite meet Hannah's eyes. That made Hannah suspect that Alex wasn't telling her the whole truth and that she had a second reason for accepting Sally's job.

"I'll start in on these," Alex said, glancing down at the recipe. "I'll go get a fresh box of oatmeal."

When Alex had gone, Hannah turned to Lisa. "Did you find out anything more about her?"

"She's forty-five years old, she lives in Edina, she has two cats, she loves to dance, and she sews in her spare time. That's about it. You got more real information from her in two minutes than I did in two hours."

"You primed the pump," Hannah said, patting Lisa on the shoulder. "I just happened to be here when the water gushed out."

"Do you really think so?"

"Absolutely. Just keep working on her."

Alex came back in with a jumbo-sized box of oatmeal, and the three of them worked in silence for several minutes. It didn't take long to mix up the cookie dough with all three of them working, and that was all to the good. Sally's staff had begun to arrive to prepare the lunch buffet, and Hannah didn't want to get in the way.

"Don't worry," Alex said, noticing Hannah's concerned expression as more kitchen workers arrived. "Sally's serving soup and sandwiches for today's lunch buffet. She figured that most of the guests would be out at venues and she could keep it simple. All the kitchen staff has to do is lay cold cuts, cheeses, and breads on platters and carry it out. There's potato salad, but that's already made, and so is the coleslaw and the soup."

Another five minutes of work and they were finished Hannah covered the bowls with plastic wrap, and Lisa and Alex stashed them in Sally's walk-in cooler.

'Why don't you go pull your truck around to the back entrance?" Lisa suggested. "We'll finish up here and then we'll help you load."

Hannah headed out to get her truck. As she walked through the halls to the lobby, she didn't meet another soul. Sally had been right. Almost everyone was out at the venues.

Her boots were on the rack by the front entrance, right where she'd left them when she'd come in, and Hannah sat down on the bench to pull them on. She was just putting on her parka, preparing to go out into the cold, when she noticed a small crowd of people out on the lakeshore. Two parka-clad men were unloading a wooden structure from a pickup truck that had been driven out on the ice, and Hannah realized that they were setting up for the ice-fishing contest. The actual contest would take place tomorrow, but the preparations had to be made in advance. By the time night fell, the surface of Eden Lake would be sprinkled with ice-fishing houses.

Hannah was about to step out the door when she noticed that the plume of smoke on the far side of the lake was still there. A die-hard Winter Carnival attendee would be out at the venues by now. He wouldn't be huddled in his summer cabin, feeding the fire in his fireplace. But this column of smoke showed no signs of diminishing. It was still just as thick as when she'd first spotted it.

Hannah turned on her heel and headed for the phone. If she remembered correctly, Janie's parents had owned a cabin on the far side of the lake. She had to find out if they'd sold it when they'd moved to Florida, and there was one person who could tell her that in a flash.

Two minutes later, Hannah had Andrea on the phone. But the moment she started to ask her question, Andrea interrupted her.

"Wait a second, Hannah. I've got big news. You can take Ray off your suspect list."

"The bus driver called you?"

"That's right. Ray rode all the way up to Duluth and his parents were there to meet him. The driver saw him get into their car. That was at eight last night, and the driver told me that the roads up north were a mess. He was an hour behind schedule, and there's no way Ray could have driven back to Lake Eden last night."

"Great. That'll make Earl happy. Now listen carefully, Andrea. I just got a wild idea. Didn't Janie's parents own a cabin on the far side of Eden Lake?"

"Yes, and they still own it. We rent it out for them every summer. They didn't want to sell, because they thought that someday Janie might want to . . ." Andrea stopped speaking and gasped. "Do you think she's there?"

"She could be, if the smoke I saw is coming from her parents' cabin."

"I know which one it is. I'll drive right out and check."

"No, you stay put," Hannah ordered. "There's an APB out on Janie, and if you find her, you'll have to tell Bill."

There was a long silence and then Andrea sighed. "You're right. I love Bill, but sometimes I wish I'd married a dermatologist. They never get called out on emergencies and you don't have to worry about what you tell them. You're going out there, aren't you?"

"I'm on the way."

"Are you going to turn Janie in?" Andrea asked, sounding very worried.

"Not until she tells me exactly what happened last night. And then I'll get her to turn herself in."

Hannah uttered a word that she would have swallowed if her niece had been a passenger in her truck. The road that ran around the lake was in poor repair, and this was the fourth time she'd hit the top of her head as she bounced over the ruts. She glanced in the rearview mirror and heaved a sigh of relief as she saw the cookie boxes, still exactly where they'd placed them. It would be a real pity to arrive at the venues with broken cookies.

Andrea had given her detailed directions, and Hannah turned left at the fork in the road by the green cabin with yellow trim. Every cabin she'd passed had been vacant. No one except a desperate person would sleep overnight in a summer cabin in this kind of weather. She turned off again, at the pink cabin, and took the winding road down to the lakeshore. Andrea had told her to look for the sky blue cabin, and she could see it through the pine trees.

As Hannah approached, she spotted a familiar car. It was Janie's. She breathed a sigh of relief. She parked next to a little snowdrift near the front door of the cabin and got out of her truck.

The padlock on the front door was open, and Hannah gave a polite knock on the door. Then she opened it and stepped in. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior of cabin after the brightness of the snow outside, but she could see a huddled shape in a sleeping bag by the fire.

"Janie?" Hannah stepped forward and the sleeping bag moved.

"Hannah?" Janie sounded very tentative as she poked her head out of the sleeping bag. Then she smiled as she recognized her. "Oh, Hannah! I'm so glad to see you! But how did you know I was here?"

"The smoke from your chimney, but that's not important Are you okay?"

"I'm all right, but I really did it this time. And there's no way I'm going back, not even if she calls me to apologize. She's a horrible person and I'll find another job!"

Hannah didn't say anything, but her mind was working overtime. It was pretty obvious from what Janie had said that she didn't know Connie Mac was dead. "What are you doing here?"

"I didn't want to face all the rest of them this morning. I knew they'd be sympathetic, and I just couldn't stand it That's why I'm here."

"But you went back to the inn to pack up your clothes. Didn't you see any of them then?"

Janie shook her head, and now that Hannah's eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, she could see tearstains on her cheeks. "I guess they were all busy, or in their rooms, or out somewhere else. That was a big relief. I was really upset and I didn't want to talk to anybody about it. She accused me of sleeping with her husband, Hannah. She said all sorts of awful things, and then she fired me!"

"Look, Janie. . ." Hannah winced slightly, but she had to ask. "Were you sleeping with Paul?"

"Of course not! I'm practically engaged, Hannah. Jim's saving his money and he's getting me a ring next month. I told her all that, but she just wouldn't listen to reason. She went ballastic and she. . . she started to throw things at me!"

"What did you do then?"

"I grabbed my purse and my coat and I ran out the back door. She's got a horrible temper, Hannah. It's practically legendary. I sure didn't want to be on the receiving end of it."

"Has she ever thrown things at people before?"

"Not me, but I've heard stories, and I know she fights with Paul all the time. I had the room next to them when we opened the boutique in Shakopee, and I heard her yelling at him and throwing things. The next morning he came down with a big bruise on the side of his head. He told everyone that he hit it on the side of a door, but I knew better."

"How about Connie Mac? Did she have bruises that morning?"

"You mean. . . from Paul?"

"Yes. I wouldn't blame him if he fought back."

"I wouldn't either, but he never did. And that wasn't the first time I heard them fight. She'd scream and throw things and he'd just try to calm her down. Paul's really nice, Hannah. I know he's never raised a hand to her."

"Let's get back to last night. Connie Mac was throwing things at you and you didn't just peg something back at her as you went out the door?"

Janie shook her head. "No. All I could think about was getting out of there. She wanted to fight and I just wanted to get away from her."

"Then Connie Mac was still alive when you left?" Janie blinked and then she leaned forward to peer at Hannah intently. "Still alive? You mean she's.. . dead?"

"As a doornail," Hannah said, wishing she hadn't told Janie quite so abruptly. "What time did you leave The Cookie Jar?"

"I don't know. But I was back out at the inn by ten-fifteen. I looked at my alarm clock right before I stuck it in my suitcase."

Hannah did a little mental arithmetic. Janie must have left The Cookie Jar around nine forty-five. "Did you lock the back door when you ran out?"

"No, I just slammed it behind me. She was getting ready to throw your rolling pin and I didn't want to get hit with that."

"I don't blame you. That's a heavy rolling pin. Did you see anyone else around when you drove away?"

"No, but I was pretty upset. If someone was there, I might not have noticed. What happened to her, Hannah? Did she have a stroke or something?"

"Something," Hannah said, realizing that she had come to the point of no return. Janie had a right to know what had happened to her ex-boss, especially since she was a prime suspect. "She was murdered, Janie. Somebody bashed her head in."

Janie gasped sharply. Then she shivered and took a couple of deep breaths. "Tell me the truth, Hannah. Do they. . . do they think that I killed her?"

"It didn't look good when they couldn't find you. They need to talk to you, Janie."

"Of course. Will they put me in jail?"

"Over my dead body," Hannah said, and that comment earned her a small grin. "I'll take you out to the sheriff's station and we can get your car later. Just tell them everything Connie Mac did and what you did, and everything will be all right."

"I'll right. I'm scared, but I know I have to do it."

"Good girl. They might say you have to stay in Lake Eden until they solve the case. If they do, you can bunk in with me. I've got a guest room at my condo."

"Thanks, Hannah. But are you sure? I mean, I don't want to go back to the inn, but what if I tell them everything and I'm still a suspect? You don't want to. . . to share your place with a murder suspect, do you?"

"Why not? Another one's coming over tonight. It's Norman Rhodes, and you can compare notes." The words popped out before Hannah could think about them and she sighed contritely. "I'm sorry, Janie. I shouldn't have said that."

"I'm glad you did," Janie said, and she ventured another smile. "I guess it can't be too bad if you're making jokes about it. On the other hand, you'd joke on your way to the guillotine."

"True. But just remember that you're only staying in my guest room. I'm actually dating the other prime murder suspect."

LITTLE SNOWBALLS

Preheat over to 350'F, with rack in the middle position

1 ' cups melted butter (3 sticks, ' pound) ' cup powdered sugar (that's confectioner's sugar) 1 ' teaspoons vanilla ' teaspoon nutmeg (freshly ground is best) ' teaspoon salt 3 ' cups flour ( no need to sift) 1 cup finely chopped nuts ***

Melt the butter. Mix in the powdered sugar, vanilla, nutmeg, and salt. Add the flour and mix thoroughly. Stir in the nuts. (If you work quickly, while the butter is still warm, the dough will be softer and easier to mix.)

Form the dough in to one-inch balls (just pat them into shape with your fingers), and place them on an UNGREASED baking sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. Bake them at 350'F for 10 minutes, until they are set but not brown.

Let the cookies cool for 2 minutes and then roll them in powdered sugar. (You must do this while they're still warm.) Place them on a wire rack and let them cool thoroughly.

When the cookies are cool, roll them in powdered sugar a second time. Let them rest for several minutes on the rack, and then store them in a cookie jar or a covered bowl.

*** Mother likes these with chopped walnuts. Andrea prefers pecans. I think they're best with hazelnuts. Tracey adores these when I substitute a cup of flaked coconut for the nuts and form the dough balls around a small piece of a milk chocolate bar or a couple of milk chocolate chips.

-16- Hannah glanced at her watch as she pulled into the parking lot at the community center. Only an hour had passed since she'd driven Janie out to the sheriff's station and let Mike and Bill know, in no uncertain terms, that they'd better treat her with kid gloves. Once she'd made sure that Janie was all right, she'd driven into town and stopped at all the winter sports venues to drop off the cookies that Lisa and Alex had baked. Now the only thing she had left to do was to present Edna with the little snowballs for tonight's dessert.

The sky was leaden gray as Hannah walked across the parking lot and entered the lobby of the community center. The table where Connie Mac had planned to sign her books was deserted, and Hannah wondered what Marge Beeseman would do with two hundred copies of Sweets For Your Sweetie. A few people would buy them simply to support the library, but the huge crowd that Marge had expected wouldn't show up without a celebrity to sign them.

Hannah sighed as she trudged down the stairs to the banquet room, carrying her heavy box of cookies. She had to hold it to the side so that she could see the stairs. If she tripped and fell, Edna's dessert would go rolling down the green carpet like miniature cue balls on a pool table.

"Edna?" she called out as she entered the banquet room. She could tell that Edna had been busy, because all the tables were set and there was the tempting aroma of freshly baked bread in the air. "I'm here with the dessert."

Edna rushed out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. Even though she was smiling, she looked tired and out of sorts, and Hannah suspected that baking all those crescent rolls had robbed her of a good night's sleep.

"You baked the cake?" Edna asked, motioning for Han- nah to set the box down on an empty table.

"No, but I've got something just as good." Hannah opened the box and lifted out one of the crystal buckets filled with cookies. "These are called Little Snowballs and they're my Grandma Ingrid's recipe."

Edna's smile grew wider and she nodded so hard, her tightly curled gray hair bounced. "They're just perfect, Hannah. We can set one on each table and let everyone help themselves."

"You look tired," Hannah commented, noticing the dark circles under Edna's eyes. "Are you going to be all right?"

" 'Course I am, now that you're here. Baking all those rolls was a lot of work, and I don't know how I would've managed dessert. Maybe I shouldn't say this, but if I'd known that that woman would wind up dead, I never would have made all those changes to the menu."

Hannah grinned. "I take it you're not too upset about the Cooking Sweetheart's demise?"

"Some sweetheart!" Edna snorted. "Just look at these things her people delivered for the banquet."

Hannah glanced over at one of the tables and took in the array of bone china, lace tablecloths, and silver. "It's pretty."

"Pretty useless, if you ask me. We can't afford to have those lace tablecloths dry-cleaned, and if you try to wash 'em, they'll fall apart. The silver's got to be polished every time you use it, and that china can't go in the dishwasher. And if that's not enough, just look at these!"

At first Hannah couldn't see what was wrong with the dried flowers in ceramic baskets, but as she looked closely she realized that every basket had "Connie Mac's Kitchen Boutique" written on the side.

"They're just advertising for her new store," Edna sniffed, "and you can't clean those dried flowers when they get dusty. If she'd really wanted to give the community center a gift, she should have picked something we could really use." I Hannah knew. Edna had a point. The things that Connie Mac had chosen were impractical for a community kitchen.

"I was boiling mad when I unpacked those boxes," Edna declared, "especially since she built it all up as something wonderful. All I could think about was finding her and wringing her neck!"

Hannah's mind went into overdrive. Edna had a temper, and she'd been sorely tested by Connie Mac. First there was the generous gift that Connie Mac had promised that turned out to be more trouble than it was worth, and then there were the changes she'd made to Edna's menu. Was it possible that c Edna's temper had gotten the best of her?

"Uh.. . Edna?" Hannah knew she was treading on eggshells, but she had to ask. "What time did you leave here last night?"

Edna gave a short laugh. "Before you start getting all suspicious, I've got an alibi. Right after she ordered me to bake all those rolls, I called my sister at the farm. Hattie drove in to help me and she stayed over at my place last night."

"I'm sorry, Edna." Hannah backed off. "I didn't mean to imply that I thought you killed her."

"That's okay. I might have, if she'd come waltzing in here while I was punching down that dough last night!"

Hannah glanced at her watch. "I've got a spare hour. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Nope. Everything's all done. The minute I heard that she was dead, I decided not to make that fancy molded appetizer she wanted to have. Not many people around here like liver anyway. I'm serving cheese and crackers, just like it says on my original menu."

"Hannah?" Marge Beeseman yoo-hooed her from the door of the library as she passed by. "Come in for a minute. You have to see what this wonderful young man brought me!"

Hannah stepped into the library and smiled at the young man who was standing next to Marge. He was blond, handsome, and about ten years too young for her.

"This is Kurt Howe," Marge said. "And Kurt? This is Hannah Swensen. She owns The Cookie Jar and she bakes the best cookies in the world."

"Glad to meet you." Hannah shook his hand when he extended it. She knew that Kurt Howe was the publisher's representative who'd had the fight with Connie Mac. "You must have done something special. Marge doesn't call just anyone wonderful."

Kurt shook his head. "All I did was bring her some signed copies of Sweets For Your Sweetie."

"Two hundred of them," Marge pointed at the cartons of books that were stacked near the door. "We're doing an exchange. I'm going to sell the ones that Connie Mac presigned."

Hannah turned to Kurt. "That was very nice of you."

"It was more than nice,' Marge corrected her. "Now that Connie Mac is, uh . . . no longer with us, they'll be instant collector's items. I'm going to sit at that table in the lobby and sell them to the people who come in for the banquet. As a matter of fact, I've got to get started setting up. You'll excuse me, won't you?"

Hannah found herself on the horns of a moral dilemma once Marge had left. She was dying to ask Kurt about the fight, but she'd promised Mike not to question any of the Connie Mac people at the inn. Of course, she wasn't at the inn; she was in the library, and this opportunity was too good to pass up.

"I'm sorry about Connie Mac," Hannah said, easing her way into the subject. "I guess Sweets For Your Sweetie will be the last of her cookbooks."

Kurt shook his head. "Actually, no. Savory Press has at least three more in the works."

"You mean they're all written and ready to go?"

"Not exactly. It's like this, Miss Swensen . . . All the recipes in Mrs. MacIntyre's cookbooks come directly from her television shows. We just transcribe them from the tapes and put in some of the personal comments she makes."

"But her show is over now, isn't it?"

"Yes, but there's a large backlog of segments that haven't aired yet. And then there'll be reruns. There's plenty of material for at least three more cookbooks, maybe four."

"I see," Hannah said, filing that information away for future reference. Right now she had more important fish to fry. "Would you mind telling me where you were last night?"

Kurt's smile disappeared and his expression grew guarded. "I was in my room. Why do you want to know? Are you from the police?"

"No." Hannah decided she'd already jumped in with both feet and she might as well get thoroughly wet. "I'm asking for a friend who might be charged with Connie Mac's murder. I think she's your friend, too. Janie Burkholtz?"

"The police think Janie murdered Mrs. MacIntyre?" Kurt looked shocked.

"Yes, and unless Janie can clear herself, she's in big trouble. I just thought you might have seen her last night when she came back to the inn. I'm trying to establish an alibi for her."

Kurt's guarded expression disappeared. "I'd like to help Janie, but the last time I saw her was in the late afternoon. Our rooms are right next to each other, and I saw her leaving. Janie told me that Mrs. MacIntyre was having her portrait taken and she had to follow the limo to town."

"Your room is right next to Janie's?"

"That's right."

"And you were in your room last night?"

"That's what I said."

"Didn't you hear Janie when she came back to pack up her things?"

"No."

Hannah was puzzled. "But you must have heard something. Dresser drawers slamming, hangers rattling, suitcases bumping on the floor. . ."

"Uh . . ." Kurt began to look nervous. "Look, Miss Swensen. I was in my room last night, but I left around nine. I drove to Minneapolis to meet a friend, and I stayed overnight."

"Can your friend vouch for you?"

"Yes, but I don't want to bring my friend into it. If my boss finds out where I was last night, he'll fire me."

Hannah took one look at the stubborn set of Kurt's chin and decided it was time to play hardball. "The way I see it, you're in a lose-lose situation here. I know about the fight you had with Connie Mac and how she threatened to call your boss in the morning to have you fired. If I tell the police about that and I also tell them that you weren't in your room past nine last night, you'll be a murder suspect. How long do you think your job will last when you're suspected of killing Savory's biggest celebrity author?"

"I. . . I didn't think about that." Kurt's face turned pale.

"It doesn't have to be as bad as it sounds," Hannah told him. "I'm the only one who knows you weren't in your room last night, and I won't tell as long as you get your alibi to vouch for you. My lips are sealed if your story checks out."

"Okay." Kurt gave a resigned sigh. "I spent the night with Marcia, and her father owns Savory Press. She works there part-time, and he's death on intraoffice romance. He told Marcia that if she dated anyone on his staff, he'd fire the guy and send her off to finish college in Alaska."

Hannah whistled softly. "You do have a problem. Just get Marcia on the phone and let me talk to her. If she says that you were with her all night, I'll forget everything you told me."

Five minutes later, Hannah had all the information she needed. After assuring Marcia that she wouldn't blow the whistle on them, she hung up Kurt's cell phone and handed it back to him. "You're in the clear. But just to satisfy my curiosity, why was Connie Mac so mad at you?"

'I guess it can't hurt to tell you." Kurt hesitated and Hannah noticed that he looked highly embarrassed. "I refused to sleep with her."

Hannah could feel her mouth drop open, and she closed it before she looked like the village idiot.

"The last guy who had my job warned me that Mrs. Macintyre was sleeping around, but I thought that was just a rumor. And then she came on to me."

"What did you do?"

"What could I do? I love Marcia and there's no way I'd cheat on her, not even to keep my job. I tried to be diplomatic, but Mrs. MacIntyre didn't buy it. Right before she stomped off, she said she was going to call Marcia's father in the morning and have me fired."

"And that's why you drove to Minneapolis to see Marcia?"

"Marcia was wonderful about it. We decided that when the ax fell, we'd elope. She was willing to put college on hold so we could both work until I got established with another publishing firm."

"When did you find out that Connie Mac was dead?"

"Not until this morning. I drove back here early and got a couple hours of sleep. When I went down to breakfast, everybody was talking about it."

"Do you have any idea who killed her?"

Kurt shrugged. "Not really. Mrs. MacIntyre got to the top by climbing over a lot of other people. It could have been anybody she stepped on over the years."

Hannah thanked Kurt, assured him again that she wouldn't tell anyone about Marcia, and walked back out to her truck. It was only four-thirty in the afternoon, but night was falling and she switched on her headlights as she drove home to her condo. She'd eliminated some of her suspects without technically breaking her promise to Mike, but there were still a whole lot to go.

-17- When Hannah inserted her key in her condo door, she heard an irate yowl from inside. She immediately went into defense mode, dropping her shoulder bag so she wouldn't be encumbered, and zipping her parka all the way up to her chin. Then she opened the door and held out her arms to receive the twenty-three-pound bundle of orange and white fur that hurtled itself at her chest.